


Permission to Speak Freely

by captainnperfecthair



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: And because McKirk is my life-blood, Because I needed an extension of that hospital scene at the end, M/M, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Star Trek: Into Darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 02:44:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5610934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainnperfecthair/pseuds/captainnperfecthair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still in the early phases of Jim's recovery from their face-off with Khan, Doctor Leonard McCoy has some things he needs to get off his chest and say to Jim because in the wake of this entire tragedy, he's learned a thing or two. But he's not the only one.</p><p>In other words, Jim and Bones have an emotional heart-to-heart that only being dead and then being not-so-dead can cause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permission to Speak Freely

Jim Kirk lets out an impatient sigh. “Hey, is Doctor Leonard McCoy almost finished with all his doctor-y stuff, because I would really love a bit of down time with Bones. I miss my Bones.” God, he needs the conversation—no, he needs to get out of this fucking hospital and to get back in business already like this whole misaligned warp core and returning-from-the-dead thing never happened. It’s not going to happen any time soon, certainly not on his CMO’s watch, but maybe if he silently whines about it enough then he can will it to happen just a little bit sooner, right?

But Doctor Leonard McCoy seems to be pretty engrossed in whatever aforementioned doctor-y stuff he seems to be doing. "Bones," Jim gently intones from where he lies in bed, reaching out to grab the other man’s hand and lightly yank him closer. A week has gone by since he woke up from his coma, but it’s kind of hard to wrap his head around the fact that such a huge chunk of time has passed him by when he hasn’t even been awake for most of it. That combined with how broken and _insanely_ bored out of his mind he is has begun to really test his already thin patience. Being a man in such short supply of this most valuable commodity, the sleeping, healing, and being immobilized is getting awfully frustrating.

The doctor in question is, of course, as aware of this as he is aware of the fact that the sky is blue, the grass is green, and space is a vast black void of disease, danger, and darkness (Bones’ words, not Jim’s). Bones turns away from the large monitor beside the biobed displaying his Captain’s vitals to fix him with a solemn gaze that has Jim wondering what’s weighing on his mind. He figures it’s most likely something patient-related and not Jim-related, but from what he can see from his spot on the bed, everything seems just fine. Well, fine enough for a man who died from radiation poisoning, fell like twenty feet after being knocked off of the warp core after realigning it, and was brought back to life using a serum synthesized from a 200-year-old superhuman madman's blood.

So of course that only compounds his confusion. If the problem isn’t with him and his recovery, then what is the problem?

Bones frowns, which makes Jim frown, too. His thick brows crinkle in a tell-tale sign of confusion that allows him to silently beg of his friend the following question: What’s eating you, man? Even with all the meds he’s loaded up with right now, Jim’s not clueless and he’s still as persistent as ever, much to the CMO of the _Enterprise_ ’s utter dismay. _“You’re the worst damn patient in the entire damn solar system, you little corn-shucking, dirt-road trekking space maniac!”_ he’d told Jim once. The captain, who was at that time still a cadet along with the delightful country doctor with the ever-colorful vocabulary, had only retorted by saying that he had in fact never shucked a single piece of corn.

Nah, during his time in the countryside both on and off-planet, Jim had actually planted at least ten different kinds of crops _except_ for corn.

 _“Goddamn nuisance,”_ was all he had gotten in response.

"Talk to me, Bones," he says, and the doctor sets aside the tricorder in his hands that he’s been fidgeting with for the past minute and a half. The blond is relieved, as he’d been under the impression that he was about to have endure what was probably the fiftieth full-body scan today. "There's something on your mind, isn't there?"

Bones sighs as he slowly seats himself at the edge of the bed. His eyes wander for a moment, like he's trying to piece his thoughts together into words. Jim patiently waits, watching closely in an attempt to try to pick up on whatever it is that’s happening in that brilliant mind of his.

Finally, those deep brown irises come back up to meet his and Jim anxiously waits for Bones to open up his mouth and speak. The room remains quiet aside from the quiet blip of the biobed as it continues its livestream of Jim’s vitals.

Instead of saying anything, Bones gingerly takes Jim's one hand between his two and gently squeezes it, careful to avoid the IV going into the back of his hand.

Jim’s eyes drift down for a moment to study the familiar set of healing hands that he's grown so fond of. When his eyes meet those ever-so-expressive brown ones, he sees the warmth in them, the overwhelming amount of love and concern and... and anger. Anger? "Bones?" he says again, the growing concern bubbling up at last from beneath.

Bones takes a deep, steadying breath. "I was in Sickbay when you died…” he begins, voice shaky but trying to hold firm. “I was in Sickbay, not with you. Minutes after you were already gone, that's when I got called in and I—” His voice breaks, tears building up in his eyes that he knows he's too late to hide even as he snaps his head away. Hastily he raises his arm to swipe them away with the crisp white sleeve of his scrubs. “Goddamn it, Jim,” he chokes out, silently cursing how broken and tight his voice sounds.

Jim opens his mouth to say something for both their sakes, feeling the tightness in his own throat, but Bones plows on. Without even saying a word, he’s able to indicate to Jim that he doesn’t want to be interrupted; he just needs to get this out.

"I wish I could've been there for you, but I didn't even know what was going on! No one bothered to inform me; to tell me that the man I loved was dying! I didn't even know until you were already gone."

Hearing the anguish in his voice, Jim naturally forgets that nonverbal request for no interruptions. He desperately feels the need to say something to console him or to apologize for how events transpired. "Bones, I--"

He shoots Jim a look that clearly says to shut the hell up and let him finish, and so Jim does. For real this time.

"If I hadn't been able to make that serum or if Spock hadn't caught Khan...If our outrageous plan to save your ass had failed—which it very well could have because, as I said, it was an absolutely backwards, hog-wild plan—I would have never have gotten to say goodbye, Jim. I'd have never been able to see you or talk to you one last time."

"I'm sor--"

"Sorry, Jim? The whole time you were comatose were the worst two weeks of my entire life. I spent most of my time either refusing to sleep unless threatened by Chapel with a hypo or trying to keep your sorry hide from coding on us over and over again. And when I wasn’t busy doing that, I was going back to the last time we saw each other. I kept playing that moment over and over again in my head, imagining what it'd be like if that had been our last conversation because even then, during those two weeks, there were moments that I still wasn’t sure that you’d make it."

Jim can feel the tears welling up in his own eyes, but rather than trying to brush them off, he slips his hand out of Bones' and reaches up to swipe away the ones that are now freely flowing from that handsome face he loves so much.

"Bones, I'm sorry," he whispers, desperately wishing he could convey just how sorry he is in those three words alone.

Bones shakes his head and places his hand over the one that Jim's left cupping his face as he leans into it. "No, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to blame you, Jim. I just want—I _need_ you to know that that was what was going on in my head while you weren't here. I need you to know just how much I've gone through and how much your being gone has affected me."

Jim stares at him for a long moment, realizing his mouth is slightly agape and really not caring because it's Bones and he never has to hide around Bones. Even when Jim tries, he always knows what's really going on inside that corn-fed mind of his.

"I thought about you, you know," he quietly answers after a long break in their conversation. "In fact, when I was making that climb and realigning the core, my thoughts kept leading back to you. I kept wondering if it was better that you had no idea I was on this crazy suicide mission to save the ship and wishing you would be waiting on the other side of the glass to chew me out for being reckless again.” He laughs and is happy to see Bones crack a bit of a smile, but it sounds a bit more like a half-sob. He knows he must look like a wreck with all this crying and his state of recovery. “Knowing I would die, though, I was more worried about how much it would hurt you to see that than I was worried about—I was so terrified of—I wanted to have Scotty call you down along with Spock, but Spock could barely stop himself from opening the door. If you’d been there…”

"Jim..."

He shakes his head, clearing his mind and beginning a new line of thought. "So much of what I do is all for you, Bones. You were one of the first people ever to believe in me; to make me strive to be better, and I've never forgotten that." Jim strokes his thumb across Bones' cheek. "I love you."

With his free hand, Bones reaches out to cup Jim's face. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to his lips. "I love you, too, Jim."

When he pulls away, he notices that Jim’s eyelids are fluttering and he’s trying to keep himself awake. “Looks like you’ve tuckered yourself out, kid,” he says with a laugh, combing a hand through the younger man’s hair.

“I don’t wanna go to sleep. I’ve been sleeping too much,” Jim complains lazily as his blue eyes slip beneath his eyelids.

“Your body needs to heal itself. The more you sleep, the sooner you’ll feel better, darlin'.”

“I love when that ol’ Southern twang comes out,” the starship captain says with a lazy grin. “But I hate this,” he adds, thinking he sounds as groggy as he’s suddenly feeling. He wants to add that he especially loves when Bones calls him 'darlin', but saying anything else just sounds like too much effort to try to put forth right now. And either Bones or one of the hospital staff must have swapped the pillows out without his knowledge because he doesn’t remember them being so damn inviting like five minutes ago. So instead of yammering on in typical Jim Kirk fashion, he decides to give in to the dark depths of his subconscious that are rapidly dragging him under.

The old-fashioned country doctor probably knows that already, anyway.

As Jim’s breathing evens out, Bones smiles and runs a hand through that sandy blond head of hair. “I know you do.”


End file.
